𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑫𝑶𝑴 𝑶𝑭 𝑴𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑬 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐗𝐋𝐕𝐈𝐈 - 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋

THE TRIP TO LONDON WAS MORE TAXING THAN KINZOKU ASAHI EXPECTED. The man stumbled on the pavement, his left foot getting caught one of the loose cobblestones of the street before he was able to regain his balance. The sorcerer Cursed silently, staring at his now drenched shoes, the Italian leather completely ruined. Asahi took a deep breath, shaking his head as he crosses the street and entered the side door of the British History Museum. Once there, finding his way was easy.

Asahi had been inside of the place at least half a dozen times in the past year, meaning he was more than familiar with the layout. The sorcerer made his way through the meandering corridors of the staff entrance, bypassing the Middle East department and the offices dedicated to the Asiatic countries. Soon, Asahi found himself in front of a stained glass door, the name L. Dubois printed in perfect black letters along with a string of French words he didn't recognize.

The Kinzoku pushed the door open, his golden eyes adjusting to the dimly-lit room while he stepped into the space, his shoes dragging mud across the red Persian carpet. Léa was sitting on top of her desk, her brown curly hair framing her face while the navy black suit jacket she usually wore was resting on the back of her chair.

The woman didn't even bother to look up as the door creaked loudly. Instead, Léa smiled, gaze falling on her half-empty glass of malt-whiskey, the ice inside of her drink clinking when she tilted it to the side. Madame Dubois had noticed the shift in the air the second Kinzoku Asahi appeared in front of the building – every time a sorcerer travelled through the boundaries of space (and sometimes even time), the atmosphere changed, air turning heavy. Even better, when it was a Kinzoku, she could see the specks of golden dust lingering in the air – almost like a dream, the kind that you rarely remember once you've woken up.

Léa blinked slowly, setting her glass aside as she finally deigned to look at the man. Her expression was serene, yet even through the layers of make-up, Asahi could see the exhausted lines running through her face and the bags that formed under her eyes. She was still beautiful, of course – Léa Dubois had always been a good-looking woman, even before she rose to power shortly after the decay of the last Head of the Magistrate.

Now, it was as if the sorceress radiated power itself – she was younger, stronger – and yet, it was nothing compared to the energy simmering behind Mikazuki's turbulent stare or inside of the chain she wore around her neck.

"Asahi." Léa greeted simply as she watched the man make himself comfortable in her office. "I was wondering if you were going to show." She paused, motioning to the window outside of which a raging thunderstorm could be heard.

Flying through a thunderstorm was no easy task – and just like a plane had trouble with turbulence, so did sorcerers trying to bend space in two with their Cursed energy. The Kinzoku's had it easier than most, and although their gift was not rare, it wasn't common either. Asahi was dripping wet, the coat he'd wrapped himself with doing little to stop the thundering rain. Léa smiled, eyes stretching along with her lips, her usual red lipstick faded after a long day of work.

"I take it your trip was... peaceful."

Asahi didn't answer. He wasn't in a good mood and he wasn't about to let himself be baited by a woman who was half his age – or was she? He couldn't remember. Léa's smile widened, almost as if she knew exactly what was going through the man's head. Travelling through time and space was becoming more and more taxing as the years went on. Asahi was good at pretending everything was alright, a skill he learned from his scheming mother, but as time passed, the sorcerer found himself growing weaker.

At almost sixty years old, it was as if Kinzoku Asahi's energy was slowly being sapped away by both his age and the stress that came with being clan head – a position his daughter would soon inherit. The man grumbled in response, shedding his long coat and stalking towards the drink cart that sat by Léa's desk. Asahi pulled out one of the bottles – a Bowmore of fifty-year old single malt scotch whisky – and poured himself a glass, ice cubes clinking loudly as the liquid filled the glass.

"Do not mock me, Léa." He warned, voice lacking any real tone of threat or anything of the sort. "You should know better than to play games with me."

Asahi turned to face her, nursing his drink as his golden gaze settled on the woman. Léa rolled her eyes, taking a long sip of her whisky before settling back down. The rain continued to hammer against the window, and when a thunderclap echoed in the room, the lightning that followed illuminated the walls of her office. The man remained calm, eyes darting out to appreciate the numerous paintings hanging from her walls.

"And you should learn to control your daughter." Léa bit back before pointing to her desk, Mikazuki's sharp golden dagger still interred on the mahogany. "This was one of Mikazuki's lovely gifts after her last visit. She's growing to be real nuisance." She sighed, massaging her stiff shoulders and slowly uncrossing her legs, her body sore after an entire day of paperwork.

When Asahi didn't answer, the woman narrowed her eyes.

"But you don't seem to care about that, do you?"

It wasn't an accusation, just a simple comment, yet it seemed to rattle the Kinzoku all the same. Asahi couldn't help himself, he snorted, turning his stare towards Léa once again.

"Mikazuki has already been punished for that." He called calmly.

He could still feel the way her throat had felt under his grip, how his fingers dug into her trachea. He could have broken it so easily, but even after everything his daughter had done, Asahi still showed restraint. Hurting Mikazuki wouldn't bring him anything but trouble, and he already had enough of that. Besides, he had other ways of controlling his outlaw offspring.

"...and you know better than to make assumptions about me." He said quietly as he walked towards one of the walls, studying the painting that hung right by the window. "This one is new." He noted, taking in the large panel that stood before him.

The painting was old – oil on oak, he could still smell it. It was vaguely familiar, yet enough to be easily recognizable by the man. Léa sighed, tilting her head to the side as she pushed her matted hair out of the way. She was so used to wearing it in a tight ponytail, the ends had become brittle and fragile.

"The Armada Portrait, it was shipped over by the Woburn Abbey this afternoon." She volunteered casually, stepping down from her desk and walking over until she was standing side by side with Asahi. "It is said that Elizabeth I's victory against the armada in 1588 was a divine sign that she was destined to rule." Léa paused, inspecting the painting carefully.

The piece had been sitting in that abbey for the better part of a decade, but now that it was finally in the hands of the British Museum, it would soon join the other two versions that were on display on the grand gallery. It was certainly a refined piece of art, of an author unknown. It was one of Léa's favourites – any painting featuring a strong woman was automatically part of that category. The woman brushed her chin, deep in thought.

"Reminds you of someone, doesn't it?"